


Tick, Tock, Trickle

by WhoopsOK



Series: Damp [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Play, Diapers, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Punishment, Squick, Watersports, Wetting, caregiver!Sam, sexual age play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6281842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/WhoopsOK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dean feels his stomach drop to his feet, fear making him dizzy. Though he knows better, knows it will only make things worse, he tries to push Castiel behind his back to hide the damage when Sam comes swinging around the corner."</p>
<p>(Dean was supposed to watch Castiel, but got distracted. Now, Cas is wet and crying when Sam gets home.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tick, Tock, Trickle

**Author's Note:**

> I am a balanced individual so I didn’t make anyone poop (though it was tempting (and I could possibly be convinced)).

Castiel doesn’t usually speak and it is important for Dean to remember this.

Whether it is because Castiel imagines himself to be too young or because he thinks he would’ve been shy as a real human child, he never says. It’s just a part of the persona he has created and Sam would not have his baby any other way; this is a safe space and he can be whoever he likes. If Cas is hungry or lonely or scared, whatever the case, a soft noise or pointing is all the warning they will get – Sam knows to watch and Dean needs to learn the same.

“Be a big boy for me, Dean,” Sam says as he pulls on his jacket. “I’ll be back in an hour or so, ok? I’m just running some errands.”

“I’m always a big boy,” Dean mutters, though he hangs on Sam’s jacket in a way that’s a little needy. “We’ll be fine.”

“I mean it, Dean.” Sam catches him by the chin, looking seriously into his eyes. “You may be a big boy but Castiel is just a baby, remember? You have to keep an eye on him until I get back.” The phrasing is careful, because this place is safe – Dean would not be “looking after” or “watching over” anyone who is safe. They are children and Dean is just in charge for an hour, and only by proxy. Sam always makes sure he knows this the same way he makes sure to always come back when he says he will.

Dean nods, rocking up onto his toes trying to get a kiss. “Ok, ok, I got it!” he groans. “Kisses!” He grins when Sam laughs at him, finally leaning down to kiss him softly.

When Dean is like this, he doesn’t kiss with all his usual finesse. Just an overeager crashing of the lips, Sam’s strength the only thing holding him in place. The loss he feels when Sam pulls away, however, is the same as always. He whines but doesn’t fight it as Sam fixes his pajama shirt and musses his hair. Sam’s fond smile is worth the embarrassment.

“Cas!” Sam calls cheerily, turning and heading into the living room. Castiel is sitting on a blanket in front of the couch, looking sleepy and ruffled in his onesie with a sippy cup in his mouth. He blinks happily when Sam comes into view, crouching down so Cas can wrap his arms around him. “Hey baby, be a good boy for Dean, ok?” he said, pulling back to look him in the face. “I’ll be back real quick.”

Castiel frowns a little, but his head bobs in a small nod. He doesn’t like when the three of them are separated, but even more than that, he doesn’t like to cause trouble for his Sammy. Where Dean thinks it is funny to push Sam’s buttons sometimes, Castiel likes to be a good boy; he _lives_ when Sam is happy with him. He would swear the end and beginning of his happiness as a little was when Sam told him he was a good baby. So though he whines a little in the back of his throat when Sam kisses him, he lets him pull away with little fuss.

Sam smiles, feeling warm as he turns away. “Be good, kids,” he calls. “If you behave, I may bring something nice back for you.”

Both their faces light up, but Dean is the one that cries, “Push pops!?”

“I love you guys,” Sam winks, avoiding answering. He closes the door before Dean can question any further.

Dean pouts as he sinks to the floor beside Castiel. “Meanie,” he whines, making Castiel laugh and list into his side. He tilts his head to rest on top of Castiel’s, the baby’s warmth making him a little lazy. Sam hadn’t given him any chores anyway, so he turns and nuzzles into Castiel’s hair. “Wanna watch some TV? I can find Looney Toons for us?”

Castiel makes a happy little sound, nodding his head. He sits up agreeably to let Dean turn the TV to the correct channel, but climbs into his lap the moment he sits back down.

“You big baby,” Dean hums, though he wraps himself around Castiel protectively.

The world is always cleaved down to much simpler boundaries when they are children. Sam gave them rules to follow and the world outside the bunker did not exist for them. They are here to watch TV and play and love each other; there is no bigger picture, no other responsibilities. If they were hurt or sad, Sam would take care of them and everything would be fine. They were Sammy’s babies and could let him worry about all that yucky adult stuff. Nothing was too big for him to fix, not when it was little day. Dean loves little days and loves that Sam and Cas get something out of it, too. It’d taken him so long to get it out, to confess to all the things required to get here and he’d been _terrified_. But now, he was sitting in his _I Wuv Hugs_ jammies, shameless and at peace. He could feel safe here, on the floor, watching cartoons with Castiel curled up in his lap while Sam did the grown up stuff (like buying them coloring books and making them lunchables for snack time). Everything is soft and lovely here, including Dean. He loves this.

But the thing is, Dean can’t always turn it off, his outside awareness. Sometimes he falls into little mode so deeply, it feels like he has really forgotten all else, but some days, he feels slightly outside himself. Happy as a child, yes, but also like the outside world is looming over his head, hungry. Like he just needs to give it _something_ to satiate it until Adult Dean can handle it later. In short, when he gets a little stir crazy, his mind wanders and his body is always soon to follow. Today, it’s the case in Portville – or the _potential_ case in Portville, they haven’t really looked into it yet. Maybe that’s why it bugs him so much; if he could say for sure that it was nothing, he’d be able to fall into little Dee and forget it. If not, he could make a note – a “To Do” list – for when he was Big again and still stay down without the nagging need to figure it out at the back of his mind. And really, it wouldn’t take _too_ long. Dean, though he hates to be taken from his favorite baby, is not actually doing anything time sensitive. He has a full hour before Sam will be back and Castiel will be ok on his own for a minute. Dean could just do some quick research, just look in _one_ book and be back on the blankie with Cas before Sam ever even knew.

Dean cuts a glance down at Castiel, taking in the delight in his eyes as he laughs softly around his thumb. Even though it is late in the day, after they have eaten lunch, he doesn’t look like he is quite ready for nap time. Dean takes a swing anyway.

“Are you sleepy, baby?” he asks, stroking Castiel’s cheek and rocking slightly.

But baby or not, Castiel knows when he’s being had. He doesn’t spare Dean the annoyed look, but can’t help the rush of fondness he feels at the caught-out grin Dean gives him. He doesn’t want to fight with Dean. He has to be very careful about using his voice, sometimes it brings him up; he’s not ready to stop being a baby. He knows arguing to keep Dean from creeping away to do whatever it is he doesn’t want Castiel to know about would break the illusion. Also, Cas does not mind being laid down early; it’s close enough to nap time for his liking. He smooths out his face and coos softly, reaching out towards the play room. It’s not because he wants to go there, he always prefers the couch for nap time, but Dean knows that.

“Ok, just a sec,” Dean says, carefully helping Castiel onto the couch before running down the hallway.

They had learned many things about themselves during the course of this arrangement, but the one that tickled Dean the most was Castiel’s love of soft toys. The way Castiel’s eyes lit up and Sam rubbed his temples when Dean walked into the bunker toting “Winkle” – as Castiel likes to call his stuffie – was forever cemented as one of his favorite memories. The moose is ragged, its antlers flopping down from the try-hard sewing job Sam had done to reattach them after they’d been loved off, but Castiel loves it. When Dean returns with it, Castiel goes down easily, flopping over to one side.

Dean kneels beside the couch for a moment longer, making Winkle dance as he sings _Hey Jude_ until Castiel hums, reaching out for both of them. Dean tucks the plush into Castiel’s arms, before allowing Castiel to pull him in close. “I’ll be right here, ok?” he says quietly, before he rubs his nose against Cas’. “I love you,” he adds, stealing a juice-sticky kiss, and it makes his heart leap like always.

Castiel’s only response is a serene smile and a squeeze before he settles down into the couch.

Dean stands up and pads away softly.

Though Sam has locked away the laptops, he never takes the risk of leaving the boys without a phone. Dean’s cell is on the shelf, switched to ‘do not disturb’ mode – a rule they’d fought tooth and nail about, but Dean had eventually given into when Sam promised to keep both his lines open. He glances around guiltily before he grabs it. They wifi on it is a little shitty, but it would do well enough in a pinch. He reads the local news. Then he reads some historical documents and obituaries. Then he goes into the local news archive. Then he texts a few other hunters to see if they’ve ever checked anything out in that town. He is on the floor surrounded by Men of Letter’s files and tomes when he hears Castiel whining softly down the hallway.

Dean jots down a note on some scrap paper. “Just a minute, Cas,” he says and he means it, too. He’s just about stilled himself enough to go back into little space. There’s probably nothing in this town, nothing crucial anyway. Regardless, someone has agreed to check it out and he’s giving them some pointers from the lore; they can handle it. He’s just finishing up when he hears Castiel coming down the hall, whimpers even more discontent. Castiel never throws tantrums, though; he may pout and sulk, but grumbling and crying is more Dean’s forte. “I hear you, baby! Just a minute!” Dean says, because Castiel likes to be good and can do it for just a few more seconds while he puts away the mess.

All the files are re-shelved and Dean is standing on the chair to reach the top of the bookshelf where Sam (the Friendly Giant) keeps the emergency phones, when Castiel’s restraint runs out.

“ _Dee!_ ” he screams. The sound of his voice, so rarely heard, so rarely _miserable_ has Dean whirling around so quickly he nearly falls off the chair. The phone slams to the ground beneath him.

“Wha—!?”

Castiel is standing with his hand clutched between his legs, a wet spot spreading down one of his thighs and tears pouring down both his flushed cheeks.

“ _Shit,_ ” Dean says just as Castiel starts to cry around the fingers shoved in his mouth.

Castiel _hates_ wetting himself.

Of all the things that a baby might do to make a mess, this is the one thing Castiel always avoids. He will tug on Sam’s sleeve or whine or point, but he rarely ever goes in his diaper because he doesn’t like making trouble for Sam. He wants to be the soft, warm, sweet-smelling baby that sits in Sammy’s lap and makes him feel good. When Castiel is wet it makes him feel dirty and that is the one thing he never wants his Sammy or Dee to see him as. He starts to sob.

“No, no,” Dean says, jumping down off the chair, suddenly shaky and stomach rolling with guilt. He shushes Castiel as he tries to pat the tears from his cheeks. “Come on, Cassie, shh, I’m sorry, it’s ok,” he says but Castiel just rubs at his eyes as he wails, his cries loud and shaking like he can’t control them at all. That must be why Dean doesn’t hear the bunker door creak open, doesn’t realize Sam is back until he’s calling out Castiel’s name, sharp and alarmed.

Dean feels his stomach drop to his feet, fear making him dizzy. Though he knows better, knows it will only make things worse, he tries to push Castiel behind his back to hide the damage when Sam comes swinging around the corner.

Sam is on him in what feels like less than two strides. “Dean, what’s going on here??” he demands but Dean can’t even formulate a response. Before he even opens his mouth, Sam has reached past him to Castiel, only to stop – shocked – when his baby flinches away, choking on sobs.

When Castiel steps back from Dean, it’s not hard to miss the hand still clenched on his crotch or the dark spot surrounding it. Sam’s eyes go wide and Castiel curls in on himself, ashamed. Dean’s heart breaks over the already building fear, making him feel a little sick.

He’s braced for it but still cringes when Sam snaps to look at him, appalled, “ _Dean!_ ”

“I’m-I’m sorry!” Dean stammers, “I didn’t know he had to—”

“You didn’t _know?_ ” Sam says, incredulously. “Dean, were you even paying _attention_ to him?”

Dean starts to say something, make some excuse, when his cellphone buzzes on the floor behind him. Sam’s face abruptly switches from shocked to furious.

“I just went away for a sec, I swear!” Dean whines, knowing full well he’s not getting out of this one.

Sam just stares at him, lips a hard line. Eventually he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His face is still tense, but significantly gentler when he turns to Castiel. “Come here, Cassie,” he says softly, smiling sadly when Castiel just hiccups a little sob at him, backing away. “No, no, it’s ok, beautiful, don’t cry,” he reaches out and takes Castiel’s hand from his mouth, kissing his fingers. “I’m not mad at you,” he promises softly, wiping the tears from his face. “You held if for a very long time, didn’t you?” Castiel doesn’t answer him, but Sam hadn’t really expected him to. The fact that he lets Sam touch him, that his sobs are calming down to miserable whines is enough for now. He puts his arm around Castiel’s shoulders, looking back at Dean. “Let’s go.”

Dean doesn’t ask where, thinks better of it as soon as the question forms. He follows solemnly behind them, trying to look as sorry as he feels. When they get to the play room, he lingers in the doorway, unsure of what to do with himself.

Sam doesn’t leave him hanging long. He points at the bed without looking as he makes a beeline for the dresser. “Lay on the bed,” he says. “Take your boxers off. Only big boys get to wear boxers.”

That hurts Dean more than he would like to admit. He picked this age for himself, old enough to look out for his baby Cassie but young enough to be Sammy’s little boy, because he _needed_ that. He needed both of those things to center him so he knew where he stood; he would not be fully responsible, but would not be completely helpless either. The fact that Sam doesn’t think he can handle that, stings. He feels his throat getting tight.

“But Sammy, I—!”

“Don’t talk back,” Sam warns, looking back at him sharply from where he was pulling a clean onesie out of a drawer. “On the bed, boxers off. _Now._ ”

Dean’s tummy is all in knots, but he does what Sam asks him. He’s going to be a good boy.

Sam unbuttons the back of Castiel’s onesie, pushing it down off his shoulders. He shushes him gently when he starts to snivel, holding at the waist. “It’s ok, baby,” he kisses his nose as he gently pulls Castiel’s fingers out of the fabric, “I’m going to get you all cleaned up. Don’t worry.”

When Sam manages to get the onesie pushed down, Dean can see the diaper is sagging low and the inside of Castiel’s leg shines where the pee had escaped. He realizes with a guilty lurch that Cas had probably already wet himself once, but only come to Dean when he thought he was going to leak. He’d tried so hard and Dean had let him down. He feels himself shivering with the urge to cry. Dean never wants to let his baby down.

Without a changing table, most of the time they use the bed that Sam has helpfully equipped with plastic sheets. Now is no exception; the only difference is when Sam has Castiel lay down next to Dean, Castiel keeps his eyes resolutely fixed on Sam. No tickling and no giggling at Dean as he makes Winkle dance; he’s ashamed and Dean’s ashamed to have made him feel that way. He starts feeling even littler, unsure of what to do to fix this and wanting to reach out for his Sammy. He doesn’t think he’s allowed to yet and the lump in his throat won’t let him ask. He wants his punishment; corner time, the belt, whatever it is – he wants it, _needs_ it so he can say he’s sorry and stop feeling so yucky inside. So he can know everything is ok again.

Dean watches silently, though he notices his own breathing getting quicker, as Sam takes off Castiel’s diaper. He blinks, confused, when instead of moving towards the bin by the door, Sam steps over to him. “Legs up.”

“Wha?” Dean says, horrified. He makes a startled noise when Sam forces his legs back.

“I said, _legs up_ ,” Sam repeats sternly. What’s worse now, as Sam refastens the diaper with additional tape, is that he doesn’t even look angry, just disappointed. He knows how to press where it hurts without even trying. “This is your mess, Dean,” he says, sounding like the patient and yet frustrated caregiver that he is as he tugs plastic pants up over the diaper. “You make a mess, you get to lay in it.”

Dean means to say yes sir, he really does. He means to lower his eyes and say he understands, but for some reason the words can’t even rise to his mouth. It’s almost as if he doesn’t even know them. The whining starts, high pitched and upset, without him meaning for it to. The tears in his eyes start to dribble down his cheeks.

Sam sighs as he helps Castiel to his feet. “If you’re not going to be a big boy, maybe you need a binky, too,” he says and heat rushes to Dean’s face. Normally, it’s a silly threat. Something for when he’s being bratty to get a punishment not a _Punishment_. When he gets a smidge too smart with his mouth to let Sam know he needs something to occupy it. “Why don’t you come get it?” he says, pointing to Castiel’s crotch.

Castiel sometimes gets a bit insecure about his dick when he’s Big. It’s a lot smaller than Sam and Dean’s, but honestly that’s part of the reason Dean _loves_ it. Sure, there is something to be said about how much he enjoys gagging around Sam’s cock (or any cock, really, but that’s beside the point), but Cas is different. Being able to take him all the way down without a thought is _so_ satisfying. Being able to suckle around him without struggling to breathe meant Dean could go on for ages, listening to Castiel’s wordless little cries.

But right now, it’s a legitimate warning; Dean knows this, but he can’t quite get ahold of himself. Right now, with Cas’ dick still damp with piss, he isn’t sure how much he wants it in his mouth.

“Do I need to ask again?” Sam says, and when Dean sees the disappointment in Sam’s face, he knows that’s the whole point. He isn’t supposed to enjoy this.

“Sammy…”

“One…” Sam says in warning and Dean goes cold. Not the counting thing, Dean can’t stand the counting thing.

“Please,” he says, voice slipping younger without really meaning to. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

Sam raises his fingers. “Two!” he says, louder this time and something in Dean breaks away from his control.

“Damn it, you didn’t—!!” His hands fly over his mouth too late.

Sam’s face is frozen, hand raised halfway to “three” and Dean can see the horror he feels on his own face mirrored in Castiel’s.

Sam’s Rule Book is firm on its cursing policy: little kids should not know curse words, therefore little kids should not _use_ curse words. He finds it funny, Dean thinks, to listen to all the different ways Dean can use “fudge cakes!” or “poopy head!” to express his infantile rage. The few times Dean slipped up and let an actual curse slip out had resulted in time spent kneeling in the corner and, as a result of unchecked f-bombs, a few memorable times with a pacifier shaped gag dipped in soap.

This time, however, he knows he is already in too deep to hope for something that simple.

Opening his mouth to preemptively apologize only results in Sam’s hand snapping up in front of his face. “Not another peep,” he says voice dark and angry. He points at the ground in front of him. “ _Kneel up_. Right now, Dean.”

Too scared to press his luck any further, Dean shimmies down off the bed and crawls over to where Sam is standing next to Castiel, the diaper swishing soggily between his legs as he does.

“Open,” Sam says next and Dean’s mouth goes slack without any thought. He’s good at this part.

Sam reaches one hand down to gently hold Castiel’s still mostly soft penis. “Come on, baby,” he says, stroking him once until he’s close enough to press into Dean’s open mouth. “Big brother Dee is gonna get your dicky all clean!” He steps away, “Stay there, ok? I’m right here.” Castiel nods – still flushed, but now for a different reason – and Sam beams at him. “Good boy,” he says and drifts out of Dean’s line of sight.

Even with the acrid taste of slightly stale piss exploding across his tongue, Dean almost starts to think he got off easy. In fact, the more he mouths around Castiel’s growing arousal, the more the taste becomes the background to the sensation of sucking cock like the good little brother he is. With Castiel gurgling and shifting his hips against Dean’s face, it makes it easy for Dean’s eyes to slide shut as he starts to suck a little harder. The diaper is damp and weird against his slowly growing chub, but if he just focuses on Castiel on his tongue, he could almost forget this was a punishment.

He really should have known better, though.

Startlingly slightly when Sam’s fingers brush down along his spine, Dean has one frightful moment to think Sam is going to hit him. They do get spankings on occasion, when they ask for it – sometimes literally – but it’s a very rare occurrence. Dean’s heart stops when he realizes this is the exact kind of incident where he would feel like he deserves it. He _always_ sobs himself sick if he feels like he deserves it when his Sammy spanks him. He would be stuck in little mode for a week if that happened; the drops from those days were never kind to him.

But instead of coming down to swat his ass or swing a belt, Sam’s fingers pull open the top of the plastic pants and the diaper, too, as if checking to make sure Dean didn’t mess. In the next moment, Castiel moans softly, but his eyes are fixed on _Sam_ , not Dean.

That confuses Dean for a moment until he hears a soft hissing and feels something hot and wet hit the end of his t-shirt before it rolls down his crack into the diaper. His stomach drops through the floor.

Sam is _pissing_ on him.

“Ah-ah!!” Sam says sharply when Dean moves like he’s going to turn around. “Don’t you dare, mister.”

And though Dean obeys, he can’t help the humiliated flush that springs to his face at the feeling of Sam’s hot piss sliding down his ass and settling under his cock and balls. Panic is building when Sam just keeps _going_ , a flood filling the diaper— _overfilling_ the diaper. Even with the plastic pants, he can feel a small stream of pee working its way down his thigh. It pools around his knee on the ground and he feels tears burning his eyes; they fall as he clenches them shut, swallowing around Castiel’s cock.

“Don’t look away from his face,” Sam says blandly like he isn’t pissing into an already full diaper _on another person_. Dean blinks his eyes back open, and is completely unprepared for the look on Castiel’s face.

Castiel has his fingers pressed nervously into his mouth, drooling over them as he gasps and whines. His eyes are so wide, Dean notices, blinking at him with an almost innocent wonder. Castiel is looking down at him teary and embarrassed but _so_ turned on, he shifts on his feet, timidly pumping his dick into Dean’s mouth.

Drool starts to dribble down Dean’s own chin, mouth alternating between suckling desperately and hanging slack – shocked at his arousal, _both_ their arousals. He’s getting hard as Sam’s piss surrounds his dick and he can _taste_ how close Castiel is getting.

When Sam finally hisses to a stop, Dean moans brokenly as he wipes his dick uncaringly on Dean’s shirt before pressing the diaper back snuggly against Dean’s back. He comes back around to stand by Castiel, wrapping one arm around his bare waist. When he grabs Dean by the hair, it’s not nearly as gently as he normally does when they’re little, but still not hard enough to really hurt. “Let go of him, Dean,” he says.

Dean obeys regretfully, though he leaves his mouth open expectantly. Maybe Sam intends to make him parade around with Castiel’s jizz sticky on his cheeks. However, the pleasure that rushes through him at the thought of being marked up with his baby brother’s come makes him think he won’t be getting that today. He’d be too proud of it. His hunch is confirmed when Sam – after stroking Dean’s tongue with his fingertips, a bit self-indulgently – taps his chin, a sign to close his mouth. “Cummies are a reward, you know that.”

Looking appropriately chastised, Dean shuts his mouth and watches as Sam takes Castiel in hand, stroking him off.

It isn’t until Castiel starts to cling to Sam, whining wantonly – Sam muttering praises into his hair the whole time – that Dean realizes where this is going. Sam reaches down and tugs open the front of Dean’s diaper just as Castiel cries out loud and starts to come. He pumps Castiel’s dick directly into the diaper, hitting Dean’s arching dick on the way. Dean’s vision goes fuzzy around the edges, he’s shaking by the time Sam decides to wipe his hand clean on Dean’s shirt.

“Kneel there until I get Cas cleaned up,” Sam says, then leans to grab him by the chin. “If you’re not there when I get back, you’re going to be in even bigger trouble. Do you understand me?”

Dean has to swallow several times to get his mouth to cooperate, and even then his voice comes out weak and raspy. “Yes, sir.”

Sam nods at him and even just the fact that his word is taken at face value makes Dean feel a little less broken inside. He watches as Sam takes Castiel by the hand and leads him into the bathroom.

In the silence, Dean is left to kneel and think about what he’s done and he knows that’s what he’s meant to do. He is meant to be ashamed of his actions – he is – and humiliated by being left in this state by the man who loves and cares for him – and he is… but.

But in spite of the piss drying on his thigh and cooling in the puddle around his knees, Dean feels oddly hot. He’s so hard that even the fraction, the _tiny_ fraction that his body moves with his breath is winding him up. The diaper is damp and warm where it’s trapped against his erection, slick with Castiel’s come. He finds himself gyrating his hips to get more friction, then shamefacedly forcing himself to be still, ad nauseam.

Eventually, higher thinking seems to seep away, he closes his eyes and sinks.

It’s scary falling like this, without Sam being right there to catch him, but he’s coming back. His Sammy is coming back and everything will be ok then. But right now his dicky aches and he wants it to stop. Even little Dean is a big enough boy to know what that means. Sammy had told him he should come ask for help anytime something is wrong, even something like this. But today, Dean is in trouble and he’s going to do it all by himself. Sammy will be proud of him, he thinks blearily, for handling himself like a big boy, proving he can.

Dean takes a deep breath then whines softly, overwhelmed. It’s piss, it smells like wet diaper in here, all around him, but somehow it’s _good, so good_ for him this time. It is his baby Cassie’s and his Sammy’s piss, their scent all around him and close to him and on his dick, warm and wet and warm and wet—

He grabs himself through the diaper – like a little boy who has to pee, but he’s a big boy and he doesn’t have to pee, he just as the make the achies stop. He rubs the diaper against his hard cock, whining and panting as he does. He’s remembering the feeling of Sammy’s pee – _hot and wet and hot and wet_ – rolling down his back and into his ass and down his balls and under his _dicky_ —he’s moaning out loud, “ _Sammy_ …” he wants it again, he wants more of it, he’s _so hard._ Then he thinks back, and even the twinge of guilt he feels over Castiel’s distress isn’t enough to curb his thoughts of the piss seeping through his jammies. He wonders if he asks real nice if he could talk Castiel out of his nappy, make him sit over Dean’s lap and pee just like that _._ Or maybe one day during naptime, Castiel would sleep with his leg thrown over Dean’s and forget how much juice he’d had and just— _oh, oh._ Turning his head to one side, he pulls his shirt into his mouth, tasting what’s left of Cassie’s orgasm and imagining he can taste Sammy’s skin, too.

Dean folds over on himself, crying and humping into his hands like he can’t help it because he _can’t._ He comes so hard his vision greys out, the world quietly floating far away from him. He’s so spent with it, trembling with his forehead pressed to the floor, he doesn’t realize he’s lost control of his own bladder, only welcomes the warm sensation on his legs. Yes, warm is good, and he is warm and wet and soft and _Good_. Dean is so very out of it, but that’s ok. Everything is ok, because Sammy will take care of it.

“…Dean Winchester,” Sam sounds confused, but that’s ok. Dean’s a little confused, too.

“Sammy,” he slurs back, which startles him. It’s been a long time since his little voice has gotten that sloppy. He tries to force himself to get back into the kneel-up position that Sam had told him to stay in, but his legs are still shaky and now stiff from being folded under his weight for—how long? He isn’t sure now. He slumps over to one side, landing with a splat in the now quite sizable puddle under his hip. “Upps…”

Sam walks over slowly, looking down at the mess in shock. “Did you just mess in that diaper again??” he asks.

Dean’s brain is a little slow to catch up, but then he flushes, ashamed and sleepy. “Sorry, Sammy,” he says, reaching out and finding his fingers oddly stiff, too. He whimpers when Sam catches them in his hands, rubbing firmly.

“How old are you right now, Dee?”

Dean shrugs. He knows he’s slipped a little younger than he was when he started, but it’s ok. Sammy is here and will take care of him. Dean is going to be good from now on. “I’mma big boy,” he answers softly.

“Oh, boy. Ok,” Sam mutters, then shakes his head. “C’mon, buddy, upsi-daisies.” He helps Dean stand, pushing down the plastic pants and diaper where they have already started to sag off Dean’s hips. Dean steps out of them obediently, narrowly missing stepping directly back into the mess.

“Ngh,” Dean whines when the air conditioner blows across his damp crotch, “’s cold.”

“I know, Dean, come on,” Sam says and leads him down the hall to the bathroom.

When Dean sees Castiel seated in the hallway playing with his blocks – in new jammies, his hair wet and his binky in his mouth – that he remembers what lead to all this. Even though he still floating far away, he remembers that he’s supposed to be in trouble. He tries not to let it touch him, but the guilt seeps into the fogginess of his mind. He gets a little teared up again as Sam leads him into the bathroom.

It’s not a fun bath, it’s a shower – quick and perfunctory. Dean doesn’t complain as he’s quickly washed down and if Sam notices the tears, he doesn’t say anything about them.

Sam doesn’t actually speak until he’s just finished drying Dean off, leaving the towel draped – comfortingly – over Dean’s damp head as he makes him step into clean undies.

“Do you understand what you did wrong today, Dean?” he asks softly as he continues to dress him.

“Yes,” Dean says, less drowsy now even though his eyes are fixed on the ground and a corner of the towel is jammed nervously in his mouth. He corrects himself almost instantly. “Yes, sir.”

“Look at me,” Sam says a moment later after tugging on Dean’s night shirt and Dean does, tearfully meeting Sam’s gaze. Sam clucks his tongue, dabbing at Dean’s eyes before catching him by the shoulders. “Little boys cannot read. Little boys don’t have cases. That is the _whole_ point. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean whimpers, lip quivering. He’s down very low, and he’s also very sad, but Sam isn’t going to let him hit bottom. He’s staying here with him, holding him close even as he reprimands him. His Sammy won’t leave him, no matter what.

“And Cassie is not an angel or a man, he’s just a baby. If I ask you to look out for him, you have to tell me if you can’t do that, understand?”

“I can!” Dean cries frantically, “Honest, I can!”

“You’re going to have to prove that to me again, ok?” Sam says firmly. “I love you very, _very_ much, but I love Cassie, too. If I leave you in charge, I have to know you’ll keep an eye on him and he won’t get left alone like he did today.”

Dean nods his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Yes, sir,” he warbles out, clutching the towel in his fists as he struggles not to sob.

Sam’s mouth quirks up in a sad smile. “It was an accident, right?”

“Yes!!” Dean yells, never ever wanting either of them to doubt that.

“And you’re not going to let it happen again?”

“No, sir!”

“Ok,” Sam says, and just like that his voice is all gentleness and love. He pulls Dean into his arms and strokes his back. “It’s all over now, sweetie. I forgive you.”

Dean clings to him for a long minute, crying and unable to stop himself at first even as Sam shushes him. He’s so relieved it feels like the whole world is better just because Sam forgave him. Eventually, he draws his face out of Sam’s neck and sniffs with some finality. It makes Sam chuckle a little and that makes Dean smile a little.

“Sammy…”

Sam grins at the sound of Cas’ little voice; it comes out so rarely, they both covet the moments when they get to hear it. “There’s my little angel,” he says gently, when Castiel smiles shyly back at him from the doorway of the bathroom, pacifier dangling clipped from his chest. His face goes back to serious for a moment, though as he takes the towel and wipes the remaining tears from Dean’s cheeks. “Now, Dean, Cas was depending on you to look out for him,” he says, forcing Dean to take a small step out of his arms. “Can you apologize to him, too?”

Dean nods. He steps away from Sam to go stand in front of Castiel, wringing his hands and rocking on his feet. “I’m real sorry I left you, baby,” he says sincerely, “It doesn’t matter why, I never should’ve left you alone or ignored you for so long. I won’t do it again.”

Sam nods, approving, then looks to Castiel. “Cassie, do you forgive Dee? Can you give him a hug?”

Castiel stands still for a moment before averting his eyes timidly, pink in the face as he holds out his pinkie. “Pwomise?”

Dean feels tears prickling at the back of his eyes again, the same chest punch of relief he felt moments ago hitting him. But this time he manages to smile big and happy, linking their pinkies together. “I promise.” He pulls forward and Castiel presses into his arms, soft and warm and smelling like honey baby shampoo. Dean wants to never let him go for as long as he lives.

“Wuv you,” Castiel mumbles softly against Dean’s shoulder.

“I love you, too, Cassie,” Dean chuckles, kissing his cheek. He turns when he feels Sam step up behind them, even though he doesn’t quite pull away from where Castiel is still has a fistful of his shirt.

“Ok, boys,” he says clapping his hands. He sounds happy with them again and all is right in their world. “If you two can be good for _one whole hour_ while I clean up, I _miiight_ consider letting you have dessert with dinner.” He grins at them when their faces light up.

“Push pops?” Dean says for both of them, Castiel feeling secure enough to have tucked his voice away again.

Sam shrugs with a knowing smile, “We’ll have to see.”

To their credit, Dean and Castiel _do_ manage to spend the whole hour coloring before Sam comes to join them.

The moose drawing they colored for him winds up tacked proudly on his wall.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading… drink plenty of water, ok?


End file.
